Joyride
by CrypticCalico
Summary: Sweeney had always been an impatient person, and he liked for things to go fast. Unless one of those particular things was a carriage - and Mrs. Lovett was driving it. Oneshot.


Mrs. Lovett had always liked riding in carriages. It made her feel elegant and important, like those few high-class citizens that passed by her shop in them every so often, traveling to the more affluent parts of the city.

She'd owned one herself, once upon a time. Unfortunately, after Albert had passed away, she'd been forced to sell it, along with their pair of horses. Money had been so hard to come by after his death, and the profit made from the carriage and horses had been enough to keep her fed for a little over two months. But after it was gone, she'd regretted selling that carriage.

So, you can imagine her surprise when, visiting the market that morning, she came across a carriage and two horses for sale.

"Oh, Mr. T!" she cried delightedly. "I 'aven't ridden in a carriage for years… do ya think I should buy it?"

Sweeney, having had come along to the market simply for some fresh air and to stretch his legs, was now weighted down by the myriad bags and baskets hanging off of him that were the result of Mrs. Lovett's shopping. He was feeling very disgruntled at being treated like a pack-mule, and frankly, at the moment he didn't care one way or the other if she bought the thing. It wasn't like they couldn't afford it now, and he thought perhaps if she bought it she would be out of the house more, and then he would have less of her incessant chattering to put up with.

"If you like," Sweeney said quickly, not quite hearing what she was saying. He was busy battling with a basket that was being particularly difficult at that moment, and did not, for anything, want to stay in his hand. He righted it finally, only to have another fall from his grasp. He growled loudly.

"Sorry, love. 'Ere," said a completely basket-free Mrs. Lovett. She reached down, picked up the fallen basket and set it on top of the heaping pile in Sweeney's arms, which was already threatening to tumble into the street.

Sweeney glared daggers at her back when she turned around to speak to the man who was selling the carriage.

Minutes later, a bargain had been made.

"It's ours, Mr. T!" Mrs. Lovett squealed happily.

"It, and these two beauties," she added, stroking the nose of one of the horses. It snorted softly and nuzzled her hand.

"That's wonderful," Sweeney said dryly.

"Isn't it, though?" said Mrs. Lovett without a glance at him. She seemed quite oblivious to the sarcasm in his voice.

Sweeney rolled his eyes and sighed. The stack of baskets quivered precariously in his arms. "Let's get a move on, then."

Mrs. Lovett clambered into the front, took the reins, and waited for the barber to sit down.

Sweeney climbed carefully into the carriage beside her, taking heed not to drop anything. As soon as he was seated, he dumped them unceremoniously in the back.

"Mr. T!" Mrs. Lovett scolded him. "What if I'd 'ad somethin' fragile in one of those?"

"You didn't," Sweeney said matter-of-factly.

There was a pause.

"That's beside the point," Mrs. Lovett said. She stared at him a moment longer, then shook it off.

"Just remember ta be a bit more careful in the future, love," she said, patting his shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, my pet," Sweeney said, without looking at her.

Mrs. Lovett smiled happily.

"Off we go, then," she said, clicking her tongue. The horses trotted on.

After a short while, they turned a corner that lead out of the bustling market paths, and into quieter, less traveled streets.

Then, without a moment's hesitation or a word of warning, Mrs. Lovett flicked the reins, hard. The horses whinnied happily before racing off as fast as their legs could carry them.

Sweeney nearly fell out of the carriage when the horses gave their violently jolting start-off. As they picked up speed, he found it more and more difficult to remain properly seated, for fear of being flung into the streets and having his head bashed open on the cobblestones. There was nothing to hold on to, so he finally gave in and latched his arms around the baker's waist … and held on for dear life.

It seemed that nothing could jar Mrs. Lovett from the place she was seated on the bench. Sweeney would almost have been in awe had he not been quite so scared. He was extremely thankful for this, however, seeing as she was the only thing keeping him from being thrown from the carriage.

The horses' hooves ate up the street like it was nothing, and it seemed to Sweeney that they were approaching that next street corner far too quickly.

That morning's heavy rainfall had left its mark in the streets, and the cobblestones were, of course, covered in enormous puddles. One of which was right smack dab in the middle of the street corner they were heading for. Sweeney closed his eyes and squeezed Mrs. Lovett's waist even tighter.

As they rounded the corner, one side of the carriage lifted off the ground. Time seemed to stand still.

And as this happened this, Mrs. Lovett did something Sweeney never would have expected her to have done.

She laughed.

A true laugh: exuberant, full of glee and spirit, emanating life and liveliness. It seemed to bubble up out of her very soul, and Sweeney could feel it vibrate through her body as he clung to her.

It was then that Sweeney realized this was the first time he had ever heard her laugh.

They cut through the puddle on two wheels, sending a shower of water into the air that immediately fell and drenched them instantly. A shock of adrenaline shot through Sweeney's veins, and even he had to admit to himself that this was a hundredfold times more terrifyingly thrilling than slitting someone's throat.

They barreled on down the street, turned another corner, and finally came to a screeching halt in front of the pie shop.

Mrs. Lovett giggled breathlessly and let the reins slacken. She wiped a strand of hair out of her eye and look down at Sweeney, whose face was pressed up against her sodden dress, his eyes squeezed shut, his arms wrapped around her securely.

"Ya've got me in quite a death grip there, Mr. T?" she said. "Now as long as it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd appreciate it if ya let me go now. I'm 'avin' a bit o' trouble breathin' at the moment."

Sweeney seemed to realize what he was doing and let go of her, moving away sluggishly. He let his arms fall to his sides limply and stared straight ahead, deep in thought.

Mrs. Lovett hopped out of the carriage.

"Ya comin', Mr. T?" she asked.

Sweeney climbed slowly down and stood beside her in the street. He was soaked to the bone. His legs felt weak, shaking violently when he took a step forward, and he almost fell.

"Bit tipsy, are we?" Mrs. Lovett said with a smile.

Sweeney looked down into her happy face.

"What _was_ that, Mrs. Lovett?" he asked her.

"That was a carriage ride, love," she cocked her head, smiling.

"No," Sweeney said. He steeped nearer to her, his eyes staring intently into her own, searching them, a serious expression on his face. "That's not what I meant. I want to know what that was. Truly. To you." He was so close to her that his breath tickled her face.

Mrs. Lovett's smile faded, and a strange look appeared on her face. She frowned slightly and gazed back at him, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"I suppose that … that was freedom," she said softly.

Sweeney stared at her for a moment, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

"That … makes perfect sense." he whispered.

Unexpectedly, he closed the few inches distance between their faces. His lips were suddenly on hers, and she was so shocked at what he was doing that she nearly didn't respond. Slowly her hands began to move over his shoulders and back, feeling the warmth of his body through his waterlogged clothes. One hand finally came to rest on the back of his neck, and she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

They separated slowly and stood there, staring at one another, in the middle of Fleet Street in their saturated clothing.

"What _was _that, Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett asked playfully.

"That, Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney told her with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Was - "

A high-pitched whinny sounded abruptly from behind them, cutting him off and making them both jump.

"I'll get to ya in a second," Mrs. Lovett said to the horse. She turned back to the barber.

"What were ya sayin', Mr. T?" she asked, a hopeful undertone to her voice.

Sweeney was staring at the horses and carriage now curiously, the expression on his face very different than the one he'd bore just a moment ago.

"Mrs. Lovett," he began. The corners of his lips jerked, as if he were trying to hold back a smile. "Have you given _any_ thought whatsoever as to where you are going to put any of this?"

"What d'you - ? Oh... Bugger."


End file.
